If my style in this blog resembles someone elses style in any way, it was a total accident. It was not intentional. As someone else wrote it's impossible not to be influenced by things you read, consciously or subconsciously.
The way I write dialogue in my blog does seem to be similar to someone else's, but I went to film school and the way I write dialogue has always been in a very similar format. I assure you it was not intentional, nor vindictive. I'm not trying to be anyone else. I'm not trying to take attention away from anyone else. I'm not trying to copy anyone else. But I guess it's possible that maybe unconsciously I wanted to be connected to someone who understands what I went through.
The subject of my blog reflects that of my life. I write about my time in foster care, my mother, my time in the middle east, my brothers and sisters. It's all true. All of it. I'm not claiming to be anything I am not.
I really did grow up in foster care.
I really did live in 42 placements from the age of 0-18.
I never was adopted.
I really was raped by my foster dad for 3 years.
I really tried to kill myself when I was 12, 14, and 15.
I really went mute for a year when I was 12.
I really was molested by my step father in middle east.
I really was rejected by families over and over again.
I really did age out of foster care my senior year of high school with absolutely no one and lived in my car and couches until I went to college.
I really did go to college.
My sister really did die after I ran away when I was 8.
The police really did chase me through the desert when I was 8.
My mother really does hate me.
My biological sister that was adopted really has rejected me.
My brother really did attack my cat and my bank account.
My other brother lives in middle east.
I really did donate my eggs so my friends can have a baby.
Most recently I spent five days in Aurora Las Encinas in Pasadena. I've been searching for help with PTSD and can't find it despite the 500 providers in Los Angeles. I really tried to check myself into the Del Amo Trauma Center.
I really do have PTSD.
I really believe my current therapist is dumping me.
I really am struggling to find any reason to live.
I really can't get out of bed. I really can't go to work.
I really don't have that many friends.
I really do have a wonderful girlfriend but she can't possibly provide me what I am missing.
I swear I'm not trying to be anyone else but me. It's hard enough just being myself I really don't think I could even try to be someone else.
I really am hurting so much it doesn't matter that I went to college. My education can't make my past any better. It doesn't make me feel any better, neither does the 38k in student loan debt I have hanging over my head. I really can't keep living like this. I can't do this anymore. I'm so tried.